Untouchable
by gross princess
Summary: Bubba finds himself at Cresthill's Boarding School For Boys every year. Will this one be different because of the new boy? He's obviously bad news...but how can Bubba stay away? supernatural, earth, boarding school AU! rated m for later chapters, gumlee slash, enjoy!
1. The Bushes

**As all things end, Summer did, and now Bubba finds himself back at the worst boarding school ever, but maybe the mysterious new kid, Marshall Lee, can make the year at least a bit better. Earth AU! with paranormal stuffs in it UwU **

**Enjoy!**

It had possibly been the longest car ride in Bubba Gumball's life. His mother had packed him up, drove him to his least-favorite place in the world, and dumped him there with his bags. Bubba wasn't a boy of complaints, but when it came to Cresthill's Boarding School for Boys, he hated everyone and everything. The meals were terrible, the curfew was nine oclock, every boy there was a mindless jock, and he really didn't want to spend another year in the freezing dormitories all by himself.

His mother shipped him off to this so-called hell every year, making him bid farewell to his friends back in his hometown and wait all semester to see them again. He knew what dorm he'd land in every year; the single bed one at the end of the hall. It was left decorated from last summer, because it was his designated room and he didn't bother taking things down if he knew he'd return.

The little city of Cresthill had a scare this summer, while he was back at home. A young boy, around his age had been taken from his family and found dead days later in the bushes. Those bushes, the ones that, when Bubba peeked out the window he could see from across the field. This was chilling somewhat, the feeling that something un-explainable went down in those bushes on a hot June night only months ago. Yet Bubba's mother still sent him here.

He had to meet up with the new boys he'd be spending the year with in the commonroom, where they shared pizza and old friends greeted eachother after being away for not-so-long. He sat at his table, the same one he'd sat at for years. The boy with pink hair was gone un-noticed by the entire year twelve class as he returned to his room early.

Bubba stretched, locking the door and pulling his shirt up over his head. He went to smoothing over posters that had curled up on the walls over the two months he'd been away. He then added new polaroids of his best friends back at home, a big 'Ed Sheeran' poster and strung new Christmas lights around the ceiling. He then flopped down onto his bed, sighing peacefully.

A figure leaned in the (closed? he swore it was closed) doorway, looking over the stacks of cd's in the corner. "Two Door Cinema Club? You're such a hipster." The boy snickered, picking at his fingernails. "I'm your, um, neighbor. Well. sort-of."

Bubba jumped, sitting up alert and looking over at the dark haired teenager. "Wha- How'd you even get in here?!" The boy grinned. "I know my way around. I've been here all summer. I'm Marshall Lee." He sat on the floor criss-cross, picking up a book from one of the still-packed boxes.

This boy was like nobody Bubba had ever met before. His voice was smooth and sly, like a character from an action film. He had dark hair and thick bags under his eyes. He wore a loose black tee-shirt and gray ripped jeans, and he had a hand over his neck most of the time. "I'm Bubba. Bubba Gumball. Don't even talk about the name, I've heard every joke in the book. Aren't you supposed to be in the commonroom?"

Marshall smirked, looking up at him from the second page of 'Little Blue Envelopes'. He shook his head. "Well, aren't you?" Bubba sighed. "Fair enough. You know, I just can't stand the boys out there. All they want is to be loud and kick balls around. Not my cup of tea." Marshall nodded, though he wasn't paying attention as he went over to the box of cd's, flipping through them. "Well, what is your cup of tea? And, seriously, man, who even listens to cd's anymore? Don't you have an I-phone?"

Bubba nodded. "I do. They're more of a collection, I don't actually play them." He sat on the floor in front of Marshall, pulling the box closer. "My cup of tea is art, like baking, and sculpting and painting. I like photography and music too."

"So you're an artsy kid. My friend Alice used to be like that. Haven't seen her in forever, though." Marshall shrugged. "I play guitar, but my guitar's at home. So pissed that I forgot it. I guess I sing sometimes too but I really don't do a whole lot. Year eleven, huh?" Bubba took an over dramatic huff, rolling his eyes. "Yeah. So excited." He replied sarcastically, chuckling after.

There was nothing on the agenda for the first night, so Marshall spent it in Bubba's room, making dumb jokes and playing playlists from eachother's phones to see if they knew eachother's songs. This would, hopefully, be a new kind of year for the teenager, one where he finally had someone to spend it with. One thing he'd noticed on Marshall was a thick bite scar on his throat, that most of the time was covered by his palm. He wanted to ask, but didn't bother.

In the morning the black haired teenager was gone, and Bubba finished unpacking. He didn't remember falling asleep on the floor, but it happened. He later saw his new friend Marshall out the window in the fields, near the bushes. The two teens re-joined in the commonroom for breakfast, when Marshall didn't eat breakfast, Bubba tilted his head. "You didn't eat pizza last night either, you're sure you're not hungry?" He shrugged. "Don't have to eat often, I guess."

The new friends weren't seen without eachother for the whole day, running through the library laughing and singing loudly in the halls. It was unlike Bubba to act so hyper, but Marshall brought a loud side out of him. There were, again, no classes tonight.

When they finally returned to Bubba's room at ten, Bubba shut the door behind him and jumped onto his bed. "Who would've thought you could even have this much fun in a dump like this?!" Marshall sat in front of him, grinning. "Heh. Yeah. I'm wiped."

"So where um, where you this morning? I saw you for a few seconds in the field but that's it." Marshall sighed. "It was nothing, just checking out what outside was like." Bubba nodded. "Oh. Yeah. You do know what happened out there, right?"

Marshall flopped back, his shirt riding up to reveal scared hips. "Yep. It's old news. A boy gets kidnapped by some freak, has chunks of skin ripped out of his neck and his legs -almost- cut off while he's still alive, then dies an hour later after bleeding out in the woods alone." He replied casually, holding his hands up away from his face in the air to look at his fingernails. "How do you know that much?" Marshall shrugged. "Dad's a cop, He worked on the case. It's an interesting subject to me, I guess." He sat up again, looking at Bubba through a moment of quiet as he thought of a subject-changer. "You mentioned your mother sending you here. What does she do?"

Bubba picked at a thread on his pink skinny jeans. "She's a biologist. I don't really listen when she talks about her job, though." The conversation fell awkward again. "You should sing. I want to hear it." Bubba looked up hopefully at Marshall, grinning.

"Nah. Maybe tomorrow. I'm going to bed." The red eyed boy got up and went to the door, waving back at the shorter teen and taking his leave.  
Bubba lay back and sighed. Today was the most fun he'd had at this school since he enrolled. He smiled to himself, flicking off his light and rolling over. He'd finally succeeded in making a friend, even if it wasn't the kind he'd expected. Yet he felt as if there was alot more to this Marshall boy. A lot.


	2. The Flat Grass

**Trigger warning for alcohol use, small mentions of non-con, drugs, and abuse. This chapter's important to plot, even if it's delayed and pretty rambly. Sorry for not updating, been feeling real crappy UnU**

Marshall Lee was never a boy for sleeping. Back when his home was in downtown Cresthill, nightfall meant getting away from home with his mates. Holly and Tuesday would wait for him outside, holding bottles of stolen alcohol and guitar cases strapped to their backs. The three would escape to the edge of the city, the cliffs known as the 'crest' where they were happiest with their scotch and acoustic riffs. The two girls understood Marshall like nobody else at school. He was a 'cool' kid, but most definitely not in his own intentions.

Apparently fighting often, piercing your lip by yourself and playing a guitar made you a role model in this damned city. He was honestly just a forgotten ball of teenage angst and drunken parents. But his home wasn't in the city. He was, probably never going to return to the home he grew up in, or see his two best friends. Somehow, he'd been cursed and bound to the cliffs and countryside. The nights were even more restless now, considering the fact that he lacked bodyheat, or the need to sleep at all. He had nowhere to go at all, no sense of time or ageing. The forest was cold and swampy at night, a spot of flattened grass and red-stained trees surrounding Marshall. He hugged himself and looked around, feeling distraught.

Was this his home now? Was this how he'd stay forever? He didn't want it to be like this, he wanted to die, sure, but he thought that dying banished you from the world you'd despised so fucking much. He then felt angry. Why the fuck would it have to be here? He didn't think this was fair. He hated the fact that he had to leave behind so much for this stupid forest. The raven haired boy kicked at a tree hard, waiting for the pain to rush to his toes, but it simply didn't come.

It had been fourty-six days without sleep, or pain, or food. He wasn't angry about those things, just the fact that he couldn't go back into the city, visit his mates, or get his guitar from his bedroom to atleast have something to comfort himself with since the city shut down at night. There was one night where he'd gotten on the crest's train, but he felt strange as the engine started and the car moved. His mind went black, and he (although he felt that it was impossible) was freezing cold, colder than ever. When he awoke, he was on his side in the tall flattened grass.

He was in the position William Royce had left him in a month before, the sick bastard packing up his bag and smirking, satisfied, zipping up dark washed jeans. The position he was in when Macy Anne and her boyfriend, David had found him, the couple hand in hand strolling through the bushes. She screamed, Marshall remembered it. David panicked, and fumbled with his cellphone for a good five minutes before emergency response was on the other line. Marshall then knew that he was tied to the forest with an invisible line, and he could never leave the outskirts. He physically couldn't go anywhere but the boarding school in the bushes, the cliffs or the little shopping district on the edge of town. The train taunted him in the afternoon all summer, as he wished and begged to board it.

This entire flashback made the teen shiver, hugging his leather jacket to his body. The blood had come out of it, (finally, after scrubbing it desperately and washing it in the boy's dorm Laundromat.) leaving it just frayed and torn in places. He hated the fact that these were the clothes he'd been ruined in, and out of all things, wanted his own wardrobe with him, but his clothes were in his house in the city, and he, well, he wasn't. He shook his head and left the bushes, staring at the clock on his phone. It was only three and tonight was dead quiet.

The red eyed teen returned to the dormitory to roam, and couldn't stop himself before he found himself here, and this was the third time this week. Splayed out on the bed in front of him was Bubba Gumball, face crushed into a soft pink pillow, braces poking out under his top lip as he snored quietly. He stared at the pink haired teen, studying him. The boy was attractive, and kind, Marshall thought to himself. He had a bright smile, Marshall liked that, it reminded him of Tuesday. He really just wanted to know Bubba better, and planned on getting close to him, as being alone was aching him. There was a crack of dawn through the window and the sleepless teen fled the dorm quietly, finding a vacant dorm down the hall and deciding it was going to be his now.

He'd had little to no human interaction all summer and suddenly there were two-hundred alive, breathing boys surrounding him in this building. He could hear heartbeats in his ears, feel body heat in his skin. Everything was sensitive and unusual for the emotionless boy, and he'd realized how much people took for granted. Nobody notices how when they pass a stranger on the street, that that person lives in a parallel universe and this may be their only crossing. That's somebody's kid, someone's lover, perhaps. They've cried, laughed, danced and sung, they've suffered and fought. It's a very de-personalizing piece of mind, Marshall thought, but what wasn't when you're dead?


	3. Marshall's Empty Room

It had been a ridiculously long night for Marshall Lee Abadeer, and staring out the window for four hours was how he spent it. He would've just snooped through sleeping boy's dorms, in search for anything scandalous, but he decided not to. The cravings for a cigarette were realer than ever, after seeing boys puffing cancer sticks on the porch yesterday.

The hallways were loud around seven, teenagers beginning to awake from their slumber. Radios played from dorms and footsteps creaked along the old cheerywood floors of the halls. The commonroom filled with hungry teenage boys, looking groggy and not too impressed to be up.  
Bubba was wide awake, looking opposite of the other boys. He was cheerful, his fingers tapping away at the keyboard of his little white macbook. He was sitting on the floor in the hall outside his room, loose-fitted purple pajama pants hanging from his hips. Marshall was still in the jeans from yesterday, and weeks before, and felt disgusting about it. They didn't change from the way they looked when he checked himself in his bedroom mirror. He'd smoothed them out and shot himself a grin, then headed out the window to meet Alice and Holly and leave for that party.

But now that he had to interact with humans, it was un-acceptable to wear these jeans all year around. Marshall needed new clothes. There was still a huge wad of cash in the boy's pocket; stolen cash from his father, not that the bastard would ever notice in his permanent drunken haze. Fifty-Sixty-Seventy... Ninety-Five dollars cash. He peeked his head out the door to see Bubba, nose deep in an editing software on his laptop.

The other boy didn't notice him, thankfully. Marshall slipped out the door and walked the other way, looking for a dorm to break into. He'd only take two pairs of jeans and a few shirts, from different rooms, obviously. The raven haired boy was planning on going to the edge of town to purchase new clothes today, but needed a few things to get by if he couldn't leave today.  
He went through a few empty rooms before finding two suitable pairs of jeans that wouldn't be noticeable if they went missing, boxers, a crisp, plain white tee-shirt, and a flannel plaid shirt. He liked that one. He returned down the corridor silently, clothes in his arms as he retreated to his own room to change.

Dressing himself was the hardest thing. Marshall stood infront of the plain mirror that hung from the chipped, dirty wall. Shaky fingertips lifted at his black tee-shirt, pulling it up over his head slowly. He knew he'd hate what he saw, but inspected it anyways. Thick red slashes lacerated the seventeen year old's chest, scattering over his skin and making him ill. The cuts that had never started healing, still looking perfectly fresh, didn't bother him just as much as the thick deep marks over his left breast and collarbone. They were teeth marks, he'd been bit and it made him feel filthy. He didn't look down at his thighs as he replaced his boxers with the stolen ones. He knew that seeing the damage done to his legs would be just too much.

After dressing himself and washing his face/hair in the sink, Marshall strolled out of his empty dorm, leaving a pile of torn and dirty clothes in the corner.

The red eyed boy plopped himself down in front of Bubba, straightening out to peek at him over his laptop. "Marshall! Hey." The other boy smiled, saving his work and shutting the macbook. "Hey, Gumball." Marshall smiled back subtly, scratching at the back of his neck. "Was thinking." He paused, shifting to sit more comfortably.

"Let's get out of here. I mean, we'll be trapped under textbooks and essays soon, and I wanted to go out at least once before then." Bubba cocked his head, Looking over at Marshall. "Leaving? Y'bad little boy." He smirked. "I'm definitely down for it, though. If we get caught, 'm blaming you."

The cold teenager smirked right back, popping his collar and smoothing it back out. "Bad, yeah, but I 'aint little." Bubba got to his feet and grabbed his laptop. "So where to, bad big boy?" He asked smoothly, putting out a hand to pull Marshall up. The other boy shrugged. "Maybe just the shopping block. I 'unno, I just want to get out of here."


	4. The Shopping District

**AN: I hope you all had a wonderful thanksgiving, I know I did! Thanks for all of the wonderful reviews and follows/favorites, you lovely people! I just wanted to explain a little bit of a thing. My image of a ghost for this story would be a completely vivid person, with a physical body and everything. I kind of based the way I portray ghosts in this fanfiction to the way they're seen in American Horror Story; visible to everyone and seemingly alive. Great show, by the way, eheh. I don't own Adventure time or AHS, but owning Tate Langdon and Marshall Lee would be hella rad**

**Long chapter this weekend, enjoy!**

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Bubba Gumball's hands were hidden in his felt coat pockets, his chin nuzzled deep into the neck of it. When the boy spoke, his breath surfaced in the cold November air. "So all these years at Cresthill and you've never bothered to adventure away from the school?" Marshall broke the comfortable silence, his feet dragging against the dirt road below them.

"Never really thought of it, I guess." The pink haired teen shrugged, tilting his head to look over at Marshall Lee. "How about you, why after all these years did you start Cresthill now?"

It was Marshall's turn to shrug, lifting his hand to scratch the back of his neck. Quickly, he found an answer he thought'd be logical. "Got removed from another school. They thought boarding school would hold me down better."

"Hold you down?" The pale teen nodded. "Yeah, I'm not a very... Role student." He chuckled, looking ahead at the buildings peaking over trees. They were a mile from the school by now. The outskirts of the city where just ahead, downtown Cresthill. The main street ran all the way through, from downtown to airport hill.

"But anyways, You. You've never snuck out on the weekends? Gone to the chattam girl's wild parties or nothing?!" Bubba shook his head, smiling. "Not usually, no. A few of us stayed behind last year around thanksgiving and took a train to Chattam's, though."

"Ooohh, got a lucky little lady there?" Marshall smirked. It got a small choking noise from the other boy, and he looked over curiously. "N-no!" Bubba replied quickly, his face turning pink. Chattam was a neighboring city to Cresthill, the two looked practically identical other than Chattam's bigger budget. They had built the girl's boarding school over there, and the boy's here in Cresthill. For events such as pep rallies and dances, the students would get together in Chattam's, having it be a bigger and more exciting city.

"That was a quick answer, y'sure?" The red eyed boy teased, gently slugging his friend in the shoulder. "Yeah, I'm sure. I just get quite flustered, sorry." He smiled back, re-assuringly. "Just got a few really close friends. Never was really interested in uh." He dragged on until Marshall figured it out. "I feel you! The whole relationship thing is a dump." They'd finally approached mainstreet, people were scattered everywhere, riding bikes and shopping. Marshall really hoped he wouldn't bump into anybody he used to know, for the problems that would most definitely cause.

The two teens warmed up in a little coffee shop, where Marshall insisted on paying for Bubba's French vanilla latte. They sat in a booth hidden away in the back of the cafe, staring out the window. "It's mighty is cold out there." Bubba stated as he crossed his legs under the table. "I didn't feel it, really. I'm cold blooded, it seems. I could wear a tee-shirt in a blizzard and not realize it was snowing."

"So where are we headed?" He asked, leaning his head on his palms, elbows on the table. Marshall shrugged. "Just thought I'd pick up some new clothes. Stupid me, packing only summer clothes. Plus, I just wanted to get out of that dumbass school while I was still a free man." The pale boy lied with a smirk, playing with the straw of his strawberry milkshake between his teeth. "Smart move." Bubba muttered sarcastically, his toes bumping Marshall's shin under the table. It was un-intentional, and it had brought pink to his cheeks as he moved his feet back to his own side. "I'll have you know that I am a fabulous shopping partner." He pretended to flip his hair sassily, grinning. "I'd bet."

The street was bustling around with people in their early Christmas shopping, store bells ringing as doors were opened and children tugging at their mother's jackets. Empty chatter filled Marshall's ears; the heys, how're you's, the usual 'I haven't seen you in forever and I couldn't care less' acting people did. He looked over where Bubba was smiling, and seemed to be having alot of fun, and that made Marshall smile too.

He'd purchased a few collared shirts, and a thick wool sweater, along with new shoes and a few pairs of jeans. The bags had stacked up in his hands with every store they entered. Bubba was right, he had a great taste in clothes, things Marshall wouldn't even think to take off of the racks, he'd ended up looking great in, alive almost.

The two decided to settle down at a diner to eat, as it would probably taste a hell of alot better than Cresthill's commonroom meals. The ghost picked at his pasta, looking up at Bubba while the pink haired boy was wrapped up in his own meal, not paying attention.

They both secretly dreaded the walk back through the cold, and returning to the school. Marshall played with his straw, stirring the ice in his cup and gazing up at Bubba. the other boy glanced up and blushed, looking back down at his food. This was downright flirty, Bubba thought, grinning between bites of his food.

A waiter wrapped up his leftovers, neatly placing the tray in a plastic bag so he could re-heat it in the commonroom for lunch tomorrow. They made their leave, bundling up in their jackets. The streets were emptier now, which pleased Marshall. He never really liked any of the residents in Cresthill, They were much too loud and friendly.

The walk home wasn't as bad as Bubba had anticipated, feeling content with how his day had gone. When they approached the dorm, Marshall put out his cigarette, crushing it under his combat boot. "That's so gross. Don't you value your lungs?" Bubba nagged him, pointing to the butt smearing in the cement. "Shut it, Pinky. I've got my addictions, you've got your's." There was a long lingering when the Abadeer dropped him off at his room door, leaning his side on the wall. "I had alot of fun today, Marshall." Bubba smiled. "You really didn't have to pay for my coffee." He shrugged. "I'm glad." The raven haired boy wasn't sure if they were just going to wave and part ways, hug, or what. The halls were vacant, and he unsure before Bubba leaned forwards and wrapped his arms around him, making him go rigid.

A meaningless hug, it would've been to the seventeen year old, had it not been two months since he'd been embraced. The shorted teen smelled like strawberries, and hugged warmly like a mother should. "I'll uh, see you tomorrow!" Bubba smiled, then spun on his heels and disappeared into his dormitory.

"Yeah. Tomorrow." Marshall mumbled, turning to roam down the halls. He had a problem, and it was huge. He had feelings for Bubba Gumball, romantic feelings. And Bubba Gumball was a breathing, living boy.


	5. Bubba's Dorm (with a side of vodka)

**Here's a nice long chapter five, featuring awkward boners and sloppy drunk boy makeouts! (my favorite omg ಥ‿ಥ ****Enjoy!)**

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It was yet another rough night for Marshall Lee. He spent most of it on Bubba Gumball's floor, and then felt horrible about it around four o'clock in the morning. You're watching him sleep, really? That's disturbingly creepy. You're disgusting. He thought, un-curling from the ball he was in on the cherrywood floor and leaving the room.

He stared long and hard at his face in the mirror, his hands leaning and gripping the porcelain counter of the washroom. You're a creep. You're a desperate, dead creep. Don't think you can get away with this act for too long, Marshall.

His eyes stung, and he felt like he was going to cry, but no tears lined his eyelids, they were perfectly dry. He was tempted to smash the bathroom mirror with his fist, but turned away after staring too long.

His room was colder than he was, his bed being placed under the window. There were no blankets in his room, although he wouldn't be able to heat up even if there was. So he layered on the thick knit sweater he'd bought earlier and closed his eyes.

Although sleep never came. Just closed eyed restlessness for three hours. And then he woke, walked across the campus to Starbuck's, bought Bubba Gumball a latte, and waited for his friend to wake up in the hallway. He mad himself look busy with a book he'd picked up from the library, although it didn't interest him in the least.

"Never expected you to be a William Gibson fan." The familiar voice ran by him, as bunny-slipper covered feet stood before him. "Huh? Oh. Yeah. I don't know, just grabbed it randomly."

Bubba sat criss-crossed on the hallway floor across from him, shirtless with pink flannel pajama pants low on his hips. He had a thin blonde trail of hair below his belly-button, that confirmed he was a natural blonde. Marshall would've blushed, if blood remembered how to bring itself forwards in his cold skin. Nimble fingers pushed the coffee-cup towards Bubba, who cocked his head and grinned.

"Oh, you." He picked up the beverage, opening the lid to take a sip. "You really didn't have to." Marshall shrugged, closing the book and placing it beside him. "Thought you'd appreciate it." Bubba nodded. "Mmm, I sure do. So what's on the agenda today? I'll guiltily admit, it is getting kind of boring without classes yet. Another three days, then we have to hit the books."

He shrugged again, scratching at the side of his neck. "Well. How about we do what any rebellious teenage boys would. Let's get drunk." Marshall replied casually, shifting so he was sat criss-cross too. "Drunk?!" Bubba exclaimed in a hushed voice. "I can't d- That's too dangero- how'd you even get drinks in here?!" He finally spat out, leaning forwards curiously. Marshall just laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, I found a way. So make a decision, are you in?"

The boy with the messy pink locks of bedhead sighed, gazing at Marshall for a contemplating moment. "Oh, I suppose. Retrieve your drinks and bring them to my place whenever. I'd like to have a shower." Marshall grinned, his eyes crinkling and his mouth baring sharp teeth. Bubba just shook his head, smiling. "The things you manage to get me to do, I'm telling you, Marshall Lee, you're going to be the death of me."

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.

Marshall went through dorms until he found alcohol, deciding to grab whatever vodka people had smuggled in their bags. There was some coca-cola bottles in the west-wing's vending machine he'd managed to snatch too. The ghost decided he'd replace the drinks if necessary, or wait until people started to accuse the security.

He'd left behind anybody's beers, sticking out his tongue at the nasty beverage.

The halls were still empty when he returned to Bubba's dormitory, bottles in arms. He knew that there were only cameras on the outside campus, so he'd be fine walking around like this. Marshall bumped the room door open with his hip after Bubba had allowed him to come in, placing the bottles down on the desk.

"Hope you're not a picky dri- Woah, dude, where are your pants?" Marshall's face was warm, blushless, but warm. He silently praised whatever sick fuck decided that dead people couldn't blush, looking up at the ceiling.

"Oh, yeah. I was just getting dressed. Heh, sorry if i've made you uncomfortable!" Bubba was in red boxers with strawberries on them, wriggling into his acid-wash jeans. Marshall's eyes raked over his thin frame for a minute, quirking a brow. The other boy was well built for an arts student with a sweet tooth, and he'd wondered if he was into any sports.

"So you were saying? Marshall?" Bubba pulled a lavender hoodie with a black cross on it over his head, then leaned in and snapped his perfectly manicured fingers at the red eyed boy. Marshall shook his head and looked up, confused. "Oh, uh yeah. I hope you like coke and vodka, it's all I found in my dorm." He shifted his weight uncomfortably and leaned on the doorway. "Sounds good to me." The other boy grabbed one of the bottles and a plastic cup from his desk, pouring half and half. "Thanks again for sharing this with me, I know how sparing it is to get a drink around here." Bubba sat on his bed, patting it for Marshall to join him. He flipped on his t.v, handing the other seventeen year old the remote. "Pick whatever you'd like."

Four red plastic cups later, Bubba Gumball's neck had small red patches of drunk rash, and he was giggling at everything coming out of Marshall Lee's mouth. He had his head leaned on the wall, his eyes squinting as the other teen told an elaborate story about one of his friends.

"Jeez, Bubz. Can you spell lightweight?" Marshall smirked, jabbing his index finger into the pink haired boy's shoulder. "Huh? Why d'you need ta spell that?" Bubba asked innocently, then burst out into a fit of laughter. "Don' touch me! 'M ticklish!" That made the ghost boy's smirk grow, placing his drink on the floor and crawling over to straddle the thinner teen and grasp for his sides.

Bubba lifted his own cup away from himself, placing it on the window-sille and thrusting his hands forwards to push at Marshall's chest. "Oh my glob sto-" He burst into giggles, tossing his head and kicking his toes as his sides were attacked with gentle itches. Marshall wouldn't let up, still letting his cold fingers drag over the warm skin under the alive boy's hoodie. "Mar-M-Mercy!" Bubba practically shouted, jerking his hips to get the pale boy off of him. Marshall's face went hot, as whatever blood that was even possible in his body rushed to under his belt. "Ffffuck."

"Dude, did you really just say 'Oh my glob'?" Marshall asked the panting teen in a mocking voice, snickering. He was still pinned underneath him, coughing and breathing heavily. "Yeah I did, shattup, Marsh-mellow." Bubba slurred and sat up, leaning back on his elbows.

"Make me."

And, oh, did he ever. The pink haired boy sat straight up, slowly leaning in, his hand going to Marshall's shoulder blade as their lips pressed together. He uttered a soft surprised noise, but grabbed at Bubba's hips almost immediately. The kiss was long and sweet, making the dead boy's heart sink. "That should do it." Bubba murmured smugly as he pulled back, then wrapped his arms around his neck lazily, pulling him down into more sloppy kisses as he lay back.


	6. Bed with a Hangover

**Short Chapter due to a thing I have to go to tonight, I owe you cuties a nice long one this weekend, don't worry! **

**Enjoy!**

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Marshall opened his bloodshot eyes, blinking repeatedly and rolling to the side. Cuddled close to him lay Bubba Gumball, fists balled up by his chest. The dead boy groaned quietly, pulling the sheets up and glancing down. He was relived to find that they were both fully clothed, just like they were before drinking. He didn't know how may drinks he'd had last night, but guessing by the empty vodka bottles on the floor; a lot.

The raven haired boy contemplated getting out of bed, unaware of the emotions his friend would have towards what went down the night before when he woke. But he was comfortable, and that feeling was rare, so he wrapped his pale arms around Bubba and closed his eyes again, hoping the pink haired boy would want to stay in bed a bit longer. His face was nuzzled down in pink locks of messy hair, enjoying the smell of conditioner.

A half an hour passed like this, the gentle feeling of breathing pressed against Marshall's chest. He moved his arms away when Bubba began to stir, moving back as the blue eyed boy blinked and shook his head, yawning. He was startled by Marshall when he looked over, the other teen had his eyes shut, pretending to sleep. When he felt the bed dip, Marshall rolled over. He felt warmth pressing against him again as Bubba returned to his side, one arm resting over his side. A grin curled onto his face, turning again to rub one eye and smile at the pink haired boy. "Mh, hey." He half-whispered, propping his head up on his arm.

"Did we-?" Bubba asked, looking almost-panicked. He didn't back away from Marshall, though. The raven haired boy shook his head. "No. Don't worry, we didn't get far." This got a sigh out of his friend, resting his head back on his chest. There was no awkwardness around the two of them, and Bubba would thank Marshall's smoothness later. For now, he just wanted to stay close and warm under the pink duvet.

The two stayed awake, silent and content for a good hour, deciding that whoever was blaring 'The Black Keys' outside could go straight to hell. They murmured to eachother about stupid things, Bubba playing with the guitar pick that hung from Marshall's neck. Bubba began coping with a nasty hangover after going to get a coffee from the commonroom.

"Marshall, we've kept away from the topic all day." Bubba finally said around twelve, gazing into the other boy's eyes. "What happened last night." Marshall quirked a brow. "We made out, what about it?" The pink haired teen sighed, sitting up. "Yeah, we made out. You sound like it doesn't even phase you. But I don't just- I'm not the type to- I like you, Marshall, alot. And I don't know what it meant to you, but it meant alot to me, even if I don't remember alot of it."

Marshall sat up too, then crawled over Bubba's knees, kissing his cheek and lower lip. "You think I'm the type to get trashed and just makeout with whoever? I may look desperate, but I'm not like that either, pinky." He purred, his pale fingers holding the other boy's chin. Bubba muttered a sorry, his face going bright red. "It's not a big deal. If you want things to stay how they are, they will."

The other boy shook his head quickly, kissing Marshall back. "I just." He paused, making a surprised noise when Marshall's tongue traced over his top lip. The blushing boy's hands went to his cheeks, turning his head and deepening the kiss. When he pulled away, he smiled, blinking once slowly. "I just want to get to know you better before anything's official." He shrugged. "It was a little bit early, what I did last night, And I apologize."

"Yeah. Me too." Marshall murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind the blue eyed boy's ear. "Well, what do you want to know?"

"Your favorite color, let's start there."


	7. Caught Up in Life Stories

**Fluffy chapter is fluffy. Lots of backstory in here, boring stuffs. But anyways, enjoy!**

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Bubba and Marshall lay side by side on Bubba Gumball's pink duvet, the television playing idly in the back ground. They spilled life stories at eachother until this very day, drowning eachother in facts unnecessary. Marshall learned about Plumsberry, the big city where Bubba was born and raised. He learned about the teenager's mother, how she was kind but busy, and forgot Bubba's birthday more than once. This made the red eyed boy somewhat angry. How could someone forget their own son's birthday? They made that child themselves, wouldn't they remember? Sure, his own parents were not wealthy, or mentally stable, even, but they loved their son.

Marshall was told about Bubba's ambitions, and his friends back in Plumsberry. The other boy was looking up at the ceiling, holding a hand away from his face to pick at his fingernails, while Marshall turned his head to gaze at him as he spoke. There were two boys Bubba had dated before now, which confirmed his sexuality to Marshall. One was a childhood friend, and they didn't work out. The other, however, made the ghost angry just hearing about him. Marshall wasn't a jealous type, just a confused, sick, dead boy. This boy was named Blaze. He had fire red hair, and when Bubba described him, he sounded happy.

"We met at, believe it or not, a coffee shop. He played in a band, and I was the stuck up kid who brought his expensive laptop and sipped lattes in the corner while secretly enjoying the music. One night we bumped into eachother at a house party. Phone numbers were exchanged, and soon after we were dating. He was an aggressive boy, Marshall. But I didn't know how to leave." Bubba sounded distraught, glancing over at Marshall to see him laying on his side, gazing back dreamily. "But one day, I manned up, and beat the shit out of him. Sometimes you have to do that, spit in their face and make it known that you're worth it."

Marshall nodded, and chuckled teasingly. "You couldn't hurt a fly, pinky." He grinned, wrapping one arm around the other teen. "Pinky? Who said you could call me such a thing?" Bubba giggled, poking Marshall's nose. "I did. Hope you like it."

"It's your turn, tell me about you now." The pale boy sighed. "It's really not that interesting of a story. I mean, I was born and raised here by two drunks," He paused, thinking about what was ans wasn't important to say. Bubba looked him in the eye, chewing on his bottom lip with pink braced teeth. "Oh, I'm sorry-" "Nah, they were nice people. My dad was forgetful and old, and he never came home from the bar, but he still cared alot about me. He took me to baseball games and church even a few times. My mom was a stay at home mom, who spent day and night in front of a t.v. But she cooked and cleaned none-the-less, and made sure I ate and had shoes without holes in em'." Marshall sighed. He missed the two very deeply, even if he didn't leave his room when he lived with them. He really took his parents for granted, after all, they tried their best for him and all he did was shout in return.

"I had three best friends growing up. They were all girls, which caused a shitstorm at school. Holly was a practical goth girl, but if you said anything about it she'd kick your ass. She considered herself 'alternative'. Real piercings and everything. Tuesday was popular, oddly so. She smoked like a chimney and drank like a fish." Marshall chuckled. "Had long brown extensions and was always sayin' things like 'we weren't supposed to grow up like this,' or 'I can't wait to leave this town and start over'. All of my friends were kind of sad like that, but we all had a likin' for music in common. You woulda loved Alice. She carried around a huge Polaroid camera and wore those big hipster glasses. She liked all the artsy stuff, kind of like you." The black haired boy pointed a finger at the little polaroids taped to the walls. "Took picture like that alot." A pained feeling hit his chest. Out of all the people, these were the three he missed the most. He'd give anything to spent another night on the cliffs with them, drinking and singing until one am.

"I don't wanna brag, but I was pretty cool at school. Although I didn't go to class, like, ever, And got kicked out from two schools. I didn't join no clubs or anything like that, except for theatre and band. I guess girls were just easier to hang out with. That made whatever guys thought they were my friends, super, duper jealous, and that's when the whole 'gay' thing came out." Bubba had curled in close to Marshall, head on his chest looking up at him. It was cute to the other boy when Marshall rambled. "Gettin' called a faggot hurts bad, huh?" Marshall looked down, then kissed the top of the warm boy's head. "Yeah, it does. Go on."

"When the rumors got out, Holly got suspended for a month. Supposedly she tried to strangle a buncha boys who were talking shit bout me. Later that week a post went around on twitter from her and all it said was 'Suspension due to violent actions? Oops, all I heard was "Vacation".' Sorry, had to tell you. I found that one hilarious. Those three girls were the only ones who knew the rumors were true. To stop the shit going on, Tuesday and I began to pretend date. We'd hold hands whenever lotsa people were around, and do stuff like that. God bless her, because the shit finally stopped when people began to notice. I felt bad, because I could tell that she was true when she kissed me, that it wasn't an act like in theatre class. But I didn't feel the same and when year nine started, we broke that off."

The tweet story got a little laugh out of Bubba, who smiled sadly. "I'm sorry that happened, did you two remain friends afterwards?" He wanted to hear Marshall talk more. The pink haired boy was growing quite fond of his voice. You could tell he was from the cliffs when he opened his mouth, accent running thick when he rambled.

"Oh, yeah, we did. She found 'nother boy and they've got an apartment now, at least they did when I last saw em'. Alice moved to the bay to follow some girl she met at Chattam's, and Holly, well, she's somewhere." Marshall made a breathy little happy sound. "So what do you want to do after school, like when you grow up?" Bubba asked, looking up with glassy childish eyes. "I'm not going to grow up, never. But I think something in show business would be cool." He shrugged, then stroked Bubba's hair.

"Yeah, that'd suit you. This is all crazy, Marshall. I came here with the intention to ignore everyone and get through the year on a thread, but now I am happy, and I don't intend on changing this. Go out with me, Marshall Lee. Let's be a team. Sorry for sounding ridiculously poetic, but seriously, you mean alot to me."

"Yeah. I'll go out with you, you sparkly poetic queer." Marshall laughed, leaning down to bump noses with the other seventeen year old.


	8. The Cliffs

**Here's your long awaited, long overdue date chapter! Sorry for typos I'm not used to writing such long chapters! Marshall and Bubba watch the summer-ending fireworks together. Enjoy!**

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If there was one thing Marshall was not looking forward to, it was classes. His name wasn't registered in the school anywhere. He wasn't signed up for any of the classes. The teachers probably knew about his death. Who didn't? Rhetorical question, none of the students did. They all moved here for the semester, and had more important lives at their homes out of town.

When Bubba Gumball was in his deepest sleep, Marshall slowly removed himself from the other boy's bed. He walked down the halls of the east wing dormitory, then across campus to the academy. The school was dead, unlocked, and far too easy to sneak into.

Into the main office, that was, where the teen picked through files and printed up his own. He mocked the other boy's profiles perfectly. 'Mason Leigh.' It sounded similar, but he wouldn't be recognizable. This was a huge academy, nobody would notice. He found his boyfriend's file, putting himself in a handful of the other teen's classes and chose two himself. When he was finished, he added himself to every attendance list/record, and grinned to himself, content with his work. Wow, sneaking around was alot more fun when you literally couldn't get in trouble for it. He was able to manipulate whatever he wanted now, and he definitely planned on it.

Marshall returned to Bubba's dorm, rolling the sleeping teen over and wrapping an arm around him. He stared up at the ceiling and closed his eyes, wishing hard for sleep to visit.

The next morning was an event rally in the campus courtyard. Boys set up stands for groups and activities, music played and teachers were dressed-down in Cresthill hoodies. Bubba woke up and rolled over, smiling at Marshall and glancing up at the window. "Mhn. It's the sixth, right?" He asked into the lanky teen's chest. Marshall nodded, tilting his head to look down at his boyfriend. "That's a great goodmorning you just gave me. But yeah, it is. Why?"

"Sor-ee." Bubba replied sassily, then practically smothered Marshall, laying flat on top of him with their foreheads pressed close. "It's club day. Y'know, like in the movies. You roam around stupidly in the courtyard while people shout and try to get you to join their groups? There's cupcakes usually, we should go. Besides, I want to get a place in the prestigious art group this year." Marshall bear-hugged him, rolling over to the side and giving him the stink eye. He let the pink haired boy dangle off the side of the bed in his arms. "You're heavy. I swear, I will drop you. Yeah yeah, we'll go to the kiddie's craft corner. Under one condition; You gotta make me one of those hella sick macaroni necklaces."

A little squeak came from Bubba's lips and he clung to Marshall. "Oh my glob if you drop me I'll- Hey! The art club is actually really impressive here!" The pale boy rolled back over. "I'm sure it is, baby. Let's grab coffee before we go."

"Sweet! There's fireworks later too, I um, thought it'd be cool if we could watch them together...like as our first date, y'know?" Gumball blushed, playing his his fingers and looking over at Marshall. "Uhm, hell yes. Fireworks are rad, man. Of course I'll watch em' with you, there's nobody else I'd rather see them with."

Marshall stopped back at his own room while Bubba had a shower, grabbing his leather jacket and a grungy white tee-shirt. He wrapped an embroidered Cresthill towel around his waist and padded across the hall to the boy's bathroom. There were rows of gold accented shower stalls, and half-naked teenagers scattered everywhere. Marshall felt uncomfortable with the stray eys on him, making sure to give everyone the cruelest look possible until he reached the empty shower in the back corner.

What should've stung his thick red wounds didnt. What should've burned his pasty skin didn't. The steaming hot water just felt soothing on his shoulders. Faint blood ran down the drain continuously,but it didn't have a source. All his cuts and bites were scabby and fresh looking. Marshall didn't dare look down at his thighs. He was disgusted. Four lather, rinse, and repeats yet he couldn't scrub away the filthy feeling of William Royce's cold hands on his body. Whatever happened to that man now, he hoped it was painful. The ghost supposed he didn't realize how traumatic the event was until now, and he was sickened by the fact that those were his last minutes, the thoughts fresh in his head when he entered this numb eternity.

The shower room was painfully loud, but it pleased the Abadeer. He could sing at the top of his lungs and not be heard by even the next stall over. And trust me, he did.

Meeting back up with Bubba, who had an infinity scarf bundled up, layered over a red striped cardigan and two mocha-lattes in hands, Marshall shoved his hands in his ripped skinny jeans. "Jeez, you sure know how ta' make me feel underdressed." He smirked, and when nobody was paying attention, pressed a kiss to the pink curls that were gelled away from Bubba's forehead.

Bubba shoved starbucks cup forwards at the other teen. "Thanks." He pulled the tab up on the lid, taking a cautious sip of the coffee. "C'mooooon, let's go outside." The pink haired teen grabbed Marshall's free wrist, pulling at him gently. "You sure are an eager boy, Pinky Pie. For someone who hates the commonroom." "Shut up, glob." Bubba mocked in his best Napoleon Dynamite voice.

The two walked close beside eachother, the itching desire to link hands becoming almost unbearable. When Bubba spoke to anyone in public, he had a soft voice. Definitely a Plumsberry trait, he smiled at everyone who called him over to their stand, thankfully declining. They visited lots of info-booths, Bubba picking up a good fifteen pamphlets and brochures for theatre, fashion design, photography, dance, and everything else art related.

Marshall had one little card in his hand. It had music notes scattered on it, small printing about music. The band. He wasn't sure if it was a band-band, or like in elementary school. 'The kind with trumpets and flutes and shit.' quotes Marshall as they walked to the campus park, sitting on one of the benches.

"Jeez, for a school of jocks, there'sa lot of art groups." Marshall noted, sitting up on the picnic table and patting beside him for Bubba. "I kindof rather do my own thing, y'know? Don't like attending a meeting every week of whatever. I'm not a busy guy, unlike you apparently." He snatched the brochures from the pink haired boy's grip, shuffling through them. "You dance?"

Bubba looked down at his knees, blushing and nodding. "Yeah, but I'm not very good at it. I alwa-" He was shut up by Marshall's pale finger, pressing to his lips. "Shut it, Bubby, I'm sure you're a hellova dancer." The blue eyed teen gently opened his lips, biting Marshall's finger and grinning. "I'm hungry. Let's get subs." He changed the subject, pointing across campus to the food court. It was a small strip of fast food joints, featuring Dairy-Queen, Subway, Pizza Hut and Starbucks.

They returned to Bubba's dorm with six inch sandwiches in hand, after waiting for a good twenty minutes in the line up. Bubba placed the subs down on his desk, then went and pinned cards and pamphlets to his bulletin board from earlier. "Usually the wait isn't that long, trust me on that one." He hummed, then pulled off his scarf and tossed it at his open closet. The other boy sat on his bed, un-wrapping his lunch and flicking on the t.v. "Didn't really bother me." He took a small bite of his b.l.t, his appetite had been completely lost since he died. Maybe he just wasn't supposed to eat.

After lunch and an episode of glee, (which made Bubba somewhat pissy, because Marshall Lee had never seen his favorite show, and asked 'why are they singing?', 'wait who's she?' and 'so what's going on?' throughout the whole damn thing,) The two boys curled up for a nap, staring up at the little plastic glow-stars on the ceiling. "D'I have to dress real nice for our date later?" Marshall groaned teasingly, rolling over to look at Bubba. The other boy chuckled, shaking his head. "I'd still date you in a garbage bag. You're just a natural looker." He grinned, his cheeks pinkening. "Well thank you, beauty queen, you're hot shit too."

Bubba sighed, hiding his face in Marshall's wrinkly tee-shirt and groaning. "You. Are. The Worst. At. Complements." He pressed five little kisses to the other boy's chest,who wriggled down to face him and smile. "I'm working on it."

After a few quiet muses about random things, Bubba was knock-out asleep. Marshall just got as close as he could to the alive teen, desperate for his warmth. The feeling of innocent body-heat against his own icy pale skin was outworldly. The dark eyed boy closed his eyes, nuzzling down into the nape of Bubba's neck and begging for sleep. They happily stayed like this for three hours, just holding eachother and falling in and out of deep sleep.

Around five-o'clock, when the documentary on Mariah Carrey was finished on T.V and Bubba finally let him leave, Marshall went back to his dorm. He pulled on the tan khalkis he'd purchased and the white-button up, then his thick red sweater. Popped-collar and slick hair, he found his way to the courtyard garden to find the cheesiest thing he could, a rose.

Was this ridiculous? Yes. Would it impress his hopeless romantic boyfriend? Most likely. He plucked one fully bloomed rose, then pulled away all of it's thorns and slid the stem up his sleeve so the flower was hidden by his palm. Two strawberry lemonades on a tray in one hand, the other knocking at Bubba's door, Marshall waited. Bubba opened up with a hige head of messy hair, and a toothbrush hanging from his lips. "Glob damn." He eyed Marshall up and down before letting him in. "And you brought Starbucks. You're a keeper, Marshall Lee." He lisped between mouthfuls of thick minty foam.

Fireworks started at seven, and it was six now. The two grabbed a snack from the commonroom; muffins, and Bubba filled a basket with a huge blanket and a bunch of throw-pillows. "Hey babe," Marshall paused, waiting for the usual hum of attention from his boyfriend. "Let's watch the fireworks from the cliffs. I know how to get there safely an' there'll be barely anyone around. We'll be higher than everyon' and get ta' see them better." Bubba agreed, following Marshall across the campus to the edge of the woods. A big, wide, tree-less path sprawled out infront of them. As they walked through it, and the path was clear of students, Marshall's index and middle finger slowly slid past Bubba's, then their fingers locked together, swinging their hands between the two.

Rock climbing was easy for Marshall, who took the basket and held the handle between his teeth as he made it to the top of the cliffs. There was a flat rock, one with names sprayed into it and a mossy surface. Marshall hadn't visited here since his living days and it made his heart sink. Tuesday's smashed remains of vodka bottles were still there, in a pile by the tree she'd thrown them at. 'Alice + Ellie' was sprayed in pink, fresh, from before the girl had run off to the coast with her girlfriend.

He laid out the blankets before Bubba got to the top, throwing down pillows and brushing away dirt from the rock. Then he sprawled out over the blanket, waiting for his boyfriend. "How," Bubba panted, Dropping beside him and sighing. "Can people enjoy hikes? They're exhausting!" He sat up, his eyes wandering from Marshall's to over the rocks. Down below he could see the tiny square campus of Cresthill, the people about the size of grains of rice. Over the trees he could see mainstreet with it's shiny lights and sky-high apartments.

"I know, It's a really good place to see everything from." Marshall's palm rested gently on the curve of Bubba's knee, smiling. The raven haired boy pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck and chuckled breathily. Since it was now autumn, the dark came quickly over Cresthill. Marshall wrapped the two of them up in a thick, fluffy blanket from the basket and Bubba rest his head on the taller teen's shoulder.

A loud crack went off, and a tiny, barely-visible red orb shot up into the air. From up on the cliffs, the couple could hear loud cheering from their peers below. The little orb burst into a colorful mess of lights, gently floating down from the sky. After the first firework went off, three smaller ones were set off too, and the show began. Marshall wasn't too excited about fireworks, and most of the night he had his head turned to watch Bubba's amazed face. In the reflection of the boy's bright blue eyes he could see the lights and colors going off in the sky. His pink lips were slightly agape, curved into a smile.

The firework show lasted a good hour, music booming from the campus below, but muffled by their distance. Marshall and Bubba sat in content silence, curled up under a old weepy oak tree up in the cliffs where nobody would bother them, or remember they exsisted. "There's a huge party in the commonroom now." Bubba stated, but Marshall shook his head. "Do you really want to go?" He asked and the other teen smiled, shaking his head back and bumping foreheads with the ghost. "I'd rather stay here with you."

And that night, the two, finally happy, teenagers slept under the stars with the cold night nipping at their skin. And Bubba kept Marshall warm, and he finally felt alive again.

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**AN: To the reviewer that asked if Bubba knows Marshall's a ghost or not, No. He doesn't. But he will find out and it will cause problems. Thanks for all of the follows and lovely reviews, I love you allllll! Xoxox**


	9. The Porch in The Cold

The morning was bright and cold, but neither Marshall or Bubba regretted sleeping under the stars. They lingered in their makeshift bed for an hour before packing it up and hiking down the trails back to the campus. The blue eyed boy's hand was held to keep warm, and Bubba smiled at his boyfriend.

"Thank you so much for last night, Marshall. I had alot of fun." The ghost just swung his hand in agreement, smiling over at the pink haired boy. "Nice bed head, baby." He mumbled. A few boys crossed paths with them, quiet when they did so. A few stared at their entwined fingers for a second, but nobody voiced an opinion. Bubba felt releived that they didn't because he was more than certain Marshall would've fought them all off then and there.

Back into the commonroom, where Bubba made hot cocoas and changed into sweatpants while Marshall sat on the porch and smoked cigarettes. He exchanged little conversations about the cold with another boy, one who's name he'd find out later to be Jake Dogg. Jake was friendly, and shared the same somewhat grumpy attitude as Marshall, so immediately they clicked. Bubba came outside with two cups and handed one to Marshall, smiling as the other teen wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him in close.

"So you've met Jake." He nodded over at the other teenager gracefully, who grinned back. "You two know eachother? Man, shoulda' guessed it." The blonde boy smirked. He had alot of scruff on his chin, and a black beanie that just sat atop his head. "We're pretty close." Bubba chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows. He knew that Jake knew of his sexuality, I mean, with pink hair and the girliest dorm in the school, people had their assumptions. "Well congrats, my brother! I thought you'd be the only one of us who was single when we finally graduate." He chuckled breathily, his rhaspy smoker's laugh even worse than Marshall's.

"I mean," He cleared his throat, looking off behind Marshall and his boyfriend at a boy who was coming up the campus path, thick textbooks in hands. "Other than Finn. He's false hope." This made Bubba giggle-snort, and Marshall looked at him with one eyebrow raised.

"Did you just sn-" Bubba slapped a hand over his mouth, his face red. "Shut up oh my glob I'll-" "Hey guys!" Came a voice as Finn Mertens bounded up the stairs. He had a white hoodie with the hood up on tight, hiding his long blonde hair from view. "Hey Bubba! I saw you in the commonroom but we never got to catch up!" Marshall noted this boy as very excited and very loud the first minute he opened his mouth. A cheerful person to be around, but sometimes irritating. He shared a hug with Bubba as if the two were best friends, and grinned. Then he spun on his heels, handed Jake the textbooks he'd gone out to get, and sat up on the ledge of the porch.

"But I don't think I've met you before!" He looked over at Marshall Lee, who looked down at the ground then up at him and smiled. "Oh, I'm Marshall. Marshall Lee." He returned his hand to around Bubba's waist when the pink haired boy sat back up on the ledge with him. "Currently responsible for this dweeb."

"Oh. _Oh_! Well congrats, he can be a handful! Ehehe." The other blonde laughed, his eyes crinkling as he did so. "Is this your first year in Cresthill?" Marshall shook his head. "The school, yes, but I've lived in this city all my life."

"Cool, Cool. I like the city alot. Lot'sa awesome concerts in the summer and stuff like that. I usually stay with my aunt here in the summer for a month, and then go home to Pendleton. " Jake nodded. "Yeah, we both come from there. But hey, as awesome as it is to meet you two, I think Finn and I have a load of work to do on our room, right bro?" The other boy nodded entusiastically, and inside they disapeered after saying goodbye.

Marshall finished his cigarette and cocoa, then tossed the paper cup into the trash. "Those are the boys I spent my free time with last year. Finn's a really nice guy, and Jake might seem a little cold, but he means well too." Bubba spoke as they headed down the halls, and Marshall nodded. "Nah, I liked his attitude. It was a bit refreshing to talk to them." He didn't hold Bubba's hand in the halls, but he wish he could.

The two didn't do much today, due to the headache Marshall began nursing after lunch. "I swear, it's the cigarettes. They make my temples just fuckin' ache." He said, looking up at Bubba. He had his head rested in the other boy's lap on the bed as he massaged his scalp. "But that feels alot better."

"Y'know I'm gonna make you quit those, right? Finish that pack and you're done. Smoking is _such_ a turnoff. One thing I dislike about hanging around Jake so much. He smells like tobbacco twenty-four-seven." Bubba leaned over Marshall and kissed him upside down, smiling. "And it makes your breath reek. So no kisses."

They cuddled up and watched half an hour of Katy Perry's 'Part of Me' movie before Marshall got bored of spooning, and began to kiss up and down Bubba's neck. The boy went rigid, leaning his head to the side and turning bright pink. It was dark with the lights off, but Marshall could feel the blush radiating off of him. Bubba turned in the bed to face Marshall, who acted embarassed. "D'you want me to stop?" He asked quietly, looking down as his chest. "No, I want to keep going."

And their movie was long forgotten.

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**No they didn't bang, just made out until the noise from the commonroom and Bubba's stomach interupted and it was time of supper. :) Thanks for the reviews and everything, and sorry so short of a chapter, I have a lot of work tonight! I love you guys and I hope you're all doing well! xoxoxo**


	10. Starbucks and The Boy's Dorm

**Once again thank you all for the reviews and encouragement, you're all amazing and I love you guys to bits 3 Enjoy this boring chapter, I guess?**

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Bubba woke up curled around Marshall under his pink duvet, and smiled, reaching out to tuck a lock of black hair behind the other boy's ear. The pale, cold teen was still fast asleep in his eyes, and he kissed his cheeks. His blue eyes scanned over his skin to the thick red bite-scar on his neck. Never did he question it, but he'd been meaning to. Pink fingers ran over the teeth imprints gently, as if it was made of sand and would brush away with the slightest movement.

Marshall stirred and squinted one eye open, making a face at Bubba and groaning. "Baby," He grunted, draping his arm over the smaller teen's body. "G'to sleeeeeep, it's like three am."

"Actually, it's six and I can't sleep anymore." Bubba still smiled and nuzzled close to Marshall, eyes shifting over to the floor and then the wall mirror across from his bed. In the reflection he saw a boy with pink hair, shirtless, curled up in front of an attractive, taller, lankier pale boy with sunken in features and black messy hair. He saw two happy people, holding eachother in the cold winter to keep warm. He watched in the mirror as Marshall rest his chin on his shoulder, entangling their fingers and smiling into the reflection.

"You're so beautiful." The pale boy mumbled, checking his boyfriend out in the mirror. "I mean seriously, who'd you have to kill?" Bubba's face turned red, laughing. He turned his head, kissing Marshall. "You're one to talk."

"I have to pickup books for classes tomorrow, that's what we're doing today. But not yet, I'm gonna need another hour." Marshall spoke into Bubba's collarbone, tracing a little pink mark he'd left on it last night. They snuggled for an hour, Bubba's laptop on his lap, tapping keys into emails that were un-important to his boyfriend, who just kept running his fingers all over him and kissing his ear and jaw.

After coffee and showers, the couple made their way across campus where Marshall scraped up his cash for his textbooks. He'd planned on getting a job at starbucks or something in the area, something to get him money and keep a bit of his time away from Bubba. He didn't want to be away from him, sure, but he really needed to get a life away from him.

Bubba suggested the two went for a walk, and they ended up on the roof of the school, looking up at the birds in the trees as Marshall finished his cigarettes.

Classes finally came around in the morning, and Bubba helped Marshall get his outfit together. They brushed eachother's teeth and Bubba took an hour to do his hair, before they filed into a big seminar room for Civic and Careers class. A plump, dully-dressed woman stood at the front of the room, papers in her hands as she paced the floor.

The class was ridiculously boring for Marshall, who just planned on hacking the grading systems at night and passing himself anyways. He doodled on his notebooks and drummed on his desk, never listening to Mrs. McClarren's monotone voice.

Then came Geography, which Marshall had alone and sat in the back of the room with Jake. The two ignored the lesson together, shooting notes back and forth and spitting at the boy in front of Jake. The classrooms at Cresthill were the size of university seminar halls, on slants with about ten full rows of desks in each. Being in the back was the most successful way to go un-noticed.

Afterwards came Art class, which was the last period of the day. Bubba showed him to the art room and sat beside him. Nothing really happened in that class, the teacher had her head in the clouds, talking in a romantic voice about inspirations and Paris. She played music and let the students pick another student to draw. Marshall drew Bubba, and Bubba drew Marshall, Results were, well as expected. "Hey, My head isn't that big!" Bubba whined, then kissed his cheek while nobody was looking.

Then the two crashed at Bubba's dorm, falling asleep after another shitty movie and some commonroom soup. The rest of the week played out practically the same. Wake up, classes, some form of dinner, a movie, and back to bed.

* * *

On Saturday afternoon, Jake came around with Finn and the four ordered pizza and hung out in Jake and Finn's dorm. It was a very different atmosphere than Bubba's room, there were vinyls on the walls and a a huge flatscreen in one corner, A drumset in the other. Jake brought beers, and a Vex. Martini for Bubba, then they kicked back on the sofa.

"Jeez, yer' fuckin' neighbors must hate you with this thing." Marshall mused, gesturing over to the bright red drumset. "Yeah, man. Haven't even played em' at all yet. I'm looking to start a band hopefully." This caught Marshall's attention and excitement, grinning. "A band eh? Y'got anyone in mind for it yet?"

On the floor were Finn and Bubba, 'Cards Against Humanity' in front of them. They both had handfuls of cards, and were laughing hard. Jake shrugged. "My girlfriend sings real well, but other than her I'm hit a blank honestly. Y'play anything?" Marshall nodded, his hands going up to the guitar pick around his neck. "I mean, I guess I'm good with a guitar. Don't have one anymore, though. Looking to get a job so I can buy one."

Jake definitely took note of that, and they both scooted in to join the card game taking place on the floor. After two games of strip poker, which Finn lost, and terribly, Bubba stated that he was tired, and Marshall and himself were going to go home.

* * *

That night Marshall snuck down to the school and into the computer lab to look for any files about himself. He then made fake identifications of every kind for 'Mason Leigh Abeles'. After printing them all out, he tucked them into his canvas backpack and returned to Bubba's room. Tomorrow he'd apply for a job.

Starbucks was busy in the morning, and the four employees stumbled over eachother trying to rush angry teenagers their coffees. Marshall had scheduled an interview, gone back to the Dorm Hall to shower and change, kissed Bubba for good luck, and returned by two-o'clock.

"Hello, Mason, is it?" The teenager nodded, his hand gracefully flying out to meet the woman's. She looked proper, for someone in a starbuck's barista uniform. "I prefer Leigh, but yeah." He smiled warmly, taking a seat. "Okay, 'Leigh'." And the interview began. After a half an hour of casual chit chat, she smiled warmly, informing him that he shall receive an e-mail with his results on it sometime during the week.

Marshall went home with a good feeling that he'd got the job, which required celebrations. "Baby, get dressed, I'm takin' you out tonight." He kissed all over Bubba's face, who smiled and pushed him away to look at him. "Think you got it?" The ghost nodded enthusiastically, kissing his eyebrow. "My first job? I think so!"

After eating at a diner in the downtown square of Cresthill, Marshall and Bubba held hands, going through little stores and seeing the sights of the city. A few street performer's music played throughout the streets, and lights shone under the seven o-clock dusk. The couple purchased fudge from a little shop, tasting the different sugary treats from the package on a park bench. Marshall didn't like it, finding it too sweet, while Bubba decided that it was the best fudge he'd ever tried. "You're weird, how don't you like sweet things!?" The pink haired boy teased, popping another little chocolate piece in his mouth. "You're the only sweet thing I can tolerate. I don't have a sweet tooth."

The two shared a kiss under the spotlight, their breath surfacing on the air when they pulled back to laugh. "You're cheesy."


	11. The Library

Marshall and Bubba spent plenty of time together in Bubba's dorm, which was officially 'Their Dorm,' after Marshall brought all of his clothes over. Four weeks passed by with movie marathons, Marshall's new job, and the multiple art club/theatre meetings Bubba attended. Saturday nights became 'Boy's Nights', where Jake, Finn, Marshall and Bubba would drink, play games, jam out to music or go out to town together. The four made a great group of friends, and Marshall was happy to belong. Sunday nights became date nights, where Marshall would spend most of his weekly paycheck to spoil his boyfriend with flowers or chocolates and a nice dinner in the shopping district if Cresthill.

After school on Friday, when Marshall had a work shift at Starbucks, Bubba decided to go down to the library after his art meeting, packing up his purple messenger bag and pulling his camera-strap back over his neck. He had nowhere better to go, and he wasn't going to bother Marshall at work. The library was quiet, as it should be, and full of over-tired teenage boys. Bubba roamed through shelves of books, and out of curiosity, filed through the newspapers cabinet. He looked for a recent paper, to perhaps find an article on an event happening soon in town that'd make for a good date.

But he wasn't expecting what he_ did_ find. Plucking the paper he'd found out of the cabinet, he walked slowly to one of the armchairs and sat down in it, his fingers moving slowly as he flipped through the pages. 'Tragedy in Cresthill', 'Teenage Death Shocks Family', 'Marshall Lee, Found Dead.'

Quirking a brow and biting his lip nervously, Bubba's eyes scanned over the words scattered on the paper. He didn't believe any of the print in front of him._ 'Dead? But he was right in front of him. Marshall, no it couldn't be. He was alive. He wasn't dead, there's no way he could've been, that makes no sense. This better be a joke._' Bubba thought. He ended up tucking the newspaper into his bag. He needed to have a talk with his boyfriend. That was his picture, right there on the front page.

Walking across the campus was harder than it should've been. Thousands of little things Bubba barely noticed about Marshall came to his attention. Like how he was always cold, or how he had absolutely nothing with him at the start of the year, or how he pretty much never needed to eat. Was Bubba oblivious this whole time? He wasn't a skeptical boy; from childhood he'd had thoughts of spirits and things other than human or the living, but he'd never come in contact with one.

When Marshall returned to the dormitory hall at six that night, Bubba was sitting in bed, looking down at his laptop with an un-interested face. The raven haired boy hung up his bag and pulled off his shoes, then kneeled on the bed to kiss Bubba's cheek and jaw. The pink haired boy kissed him back then sat Marshall down and placed his laptop on the floor. He turned and looked at him. "We need to talk," The look in his boyfriend's eyes was terrified. He almost panicked. "O...kay?"

Bubba sighed shakily, grabbing his messenger bag and pulling out two folded newspapers. He lifted up the front page of one, with a picture from the scene of his crime, where caution tape was strung and police looked angry at the camera man, and the red eyed boy broke down immediately. He wanted to get up and sprint but he couldn't. He brought his knees to his chest and hid his face in his arms.

"I really, honestly have no idea how to- Well, I just can't- Marshall, why didn't you tell me?" Bubba asked softly, moving in closer to the raven haired seventeen year old. "I mean, nevermind, I thought we were- I ugh, you probably, just. Listen, this is hard for me to understand, okay?"

Marshall looked up, and he was no longer the loving boyfriend who came home from work with coffees to kiss his lover and hold him close. "Oh yeah, you know, the one person who I've got left, just gonna go up to them and be all like, 'Oh hey by the way I was raped and fucking murdered this summer hope you don't mind that you're dating a ghost.' Makes total sense, doesn't it, Bubba?" He was now angry. Pushing Bubba's hand off of his shoulder, he got up and stood at the door.

"I didn't tell you because you wouldn't fucking understand! I'm dead, _FUCKING DEAD!_ This is hard for me to think about, forget understand! I was killed here and I'll haunt here until fucking hell freezes over. I can't leave...I can never leave." Marshall went from shouting to a hoarse, soft voice, breaking down into tears with a tight grip on the door handle. "And now I've blown it with you too. I had someone to keep me company, but I've gone and freaked them out, I knew this wouldn't work. I'll go." With that, the door was opened and Marshall's footsteps were heard from inside as he walked down the hall.

Marshall made one good point, Bubba really didn't understand. But he felt hurt for the boy, a deep amount of pain that caused him to lack sleep that night. He sat up on his laptop and tapped away at the keys, learning as much as he could about the spiritual. He went out to look for his boyfriend, asking Jake and Finn if they'd seen him at all. Nobody had.

His bed in the swamp was cold, laying down on his side as if he was re-enacting the night of his murder. There was no point for Marshall. He couldn't go back into those hallways. He'd stay like this, hoping nobody found him and caused a problem. Marshall's body had been buried in the city, and finding a copy of it in the woods where he was brutally murdered would be terrifying to the citizens.

_"You sick fuck. Gumball won't even try to look for you."_


	12. The Trees and Inside of His Own Mind

_A bed made of cold, wet grass and dirt is not a bed fit for anybody, ghost or human._

Marshall had returned to his summertime home, the flat grass and all of the triggering flashbacks that came with it. He wandered the woods, dragging his fingernails deep through the bark of trees in arm's reach. His nails came loose with the amounts of wood he'd dug up out of the trees, and soon, a few of them pulled right off. His fingertips were bloody and scraped to bone but he didn't notice. His body could become completely trashed, chopped up and burned, but he'd completely restore overnight so it didn't even matter.

The cliffs had never been so lonely, even when he was the only one there. The pain of seeing all of the movement below him in Crestlhill but not being able to join in and enjoy life became just too much. Pressing the play button on his I-phone, Marshall settled down under a tree and rest his head back. 'How to Disappear Completely' by Radiohead began to play quietly from the speakers on his phone. His mind had finally gone to some small amount of peace, and his gaze averted to the sky.

'You're a coward. You just ran when this could've been sorted out. You don't deserve him. You're a ghost and he's alive. He doesn't deserve to worry about you and get freaked out. Let's face it, you'll never be able to be intimate again, and you'll never be able to feel love like the living. Funny how you feel like nobody grieved for you, huh?' That voice was back. It dripped of a husky, drunken tone, and Marshall thought if he could smell the breath of those who shouted in his mind, this one would reek like Axe and Richie's cigarettes. He was cold and grimey, this man, and it took a moment for the boy to recognize him.

William Royce. The man who fucked him right over and left him to rot. The dirty, filthy excuse for a man who brought his entire world, his entire life, crashing down in a few hours. The scumbag who covered his skin with his own markings of teeth and steel knives, the terrifying monster who roamed his mind and rattled his bones.

That monster had taken so many things from Marshall; His sleep, his motivations, his sanity, the last onces of innocence he'd had left, his trust and freedom, His family and friends, and mostly, his life.

This made the ghost angry, running his bloody hands through his distressed hair and hugging himself tight.

'You're sick. You're not all there, Marshall.' He clenched his fists, binging his head back hard against the tree. "Well, No FUCKING SHIT HE"S NOT ALL THERE! HE'S DEAD, JUST A WORTHLESS LITTLE SPIRIT. AND IT'S YOUR FAULT YOU FUCKING DIRTBAG!" Another voice in his head yelled back at William. This one was female, and usually soft spoken. She also sounded familiar, reminding Marshall of home. She would smell like Cherry Cola and Glow by J-lo. It was Alice's voice, and she clearly wanted to be heard.

Then, all of a sudden and completely at once, all hell broke loose in Marshall's mind. A loud mess of high pitched screeching and frequencies. He'd finally done it. He'd finally lost control of everything, including his own mind.

And then it was black and he couldn't hear Radiohead's album playing on his cellphone or the birds in their nests above him.


	13. Nightmares and Coffeeshops

**AN: Happy holidays, everyone! A small warning for description of non-con, this chapter has Mr. Royce in it. Sorry for any errors, enjoy!**

"You look terrible." Marshall rolled over, finding himself right back where he'd started. He sat up, digging his heels into the dirt and backing up against a tree. A tall, dark figure circled the flatgrass circle like an animal. There was a smirk in his voice and it made Marshall cringe.

"Why are you so scared?" The man stepped forwards from in the trees, his face looked just the same as it always did. "You've been here before, nothing you won't already expect." Marshall looked around frantically, but he was stuck, he couldn't move. William closed in on him, crouching and sweeping a hand over the teen's face. Panting, Marshall finally spoke. "W-wait. Just. Help me understand this." He made himself small against the tree, avoiding William's possesive hands.

"So. You killed me, right." Mr. Royce kneeled in the grass, nodding. "Yes and I-" The Abadeer glared at him, and he stopped mid-sentence. "Okay, so, are you dead too?" The man nodded again, closing his eyes for a few seconds. He seemed irritable, just wanting to get what he wanted from his little toy. "Yes, that would be correct. I was dead long before you. Do you really think I'd murder if I knew there'd be conciquences? You can't arrest a ghost."

Marshall's brows furrowed, the temptation to spit in William's face becoming too strong. "You dirty son of a bitch." He muttered as cold fingers lifted his chin. "What's that? Speak up, my pretty boy." He knew well off what Marshall had said, but knew how to get the teen riled up and at his angriest. "N-nothing." Pulling Marshall away from the tree with a bruising grip, he smirked. "Now that's what I thought."

"So tell me." William paused, his fingers pulling at the buttons on Marshall's shirt as the squirming teen protested. "School's back in. Are you haunting anybody down in Cresthill?" Cold, flat palms ran up and down Marshall's chest and spine, making the teen shiver and let out a soft, choked sob. He didn't reply as he was pressed flat against the grass, pinned and strattled by Mr. Royce. "Tell me, Marshall. There's lots of pretty little things down there in that school."

"Don't touch any of them." Was all Marshall uttered, his hands twitching under William's grip as his belt was un-buckled. "Why not?" The man leaned over Marshall, pressing kisses and digging his teeth into his throat. This pain, Marshall could feel. Not so much physically, but just the feeling of helplessness, the lost hope that another human would have the nerve to inflict so much pain on someone. He bucked his hips away from William, squirming. "Because nobody deserves this. Nobody but me. You c-can," He paused, looking straight up into the sky, as if begging for someone to answer a prayer. "Have me whenever you want."

"Oh, darling, I wasn't going to ask permission." William chuckled, the after shave on his chin scraping against Marshall's pale chest. "I want you all of the time."

* * *

It was so quiet in Bubba's dorm, mostly because he'd been asleep all week. Trying to wrap his head around everything had driven the teen mad. Today he was going down to the city to get his mind off of things.

Down in the coffee shop, the one where Marshall and him had their first date, Bubba sat stirring a coffee. A doorbell rang as a woman entered the café. She had a huge head of kinky-curly black hair, big gold hoops and plump red lips. After ordering her tea, she took a seat across the room from Bubba. He hadn't lifted his head from his laptop yet, but when he did, he came in perfect eye-contact with the woman.

It was strange, the moment their eyes shared, and she had some sort of un-explainable emotion behind her features. An 'I know something you don't know.' kind of look.


	14. A Visiting Medium

**New character yay! Zenefriah is pronounced Zeh-Neh-Fray-ah. She took alot of character planning and designing so I hope ya'll like her! And I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday, and your celebrations were filled with fun! UwU**

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Bubba hesitated for a few minutes, scrolling his facebook newsfeed. After his mind got the best of him, he closed the laptop and tucked it away, picking up his drink and books and giving the woman an inviting look. She sat across the table from him after given permission, her nimble fingers laced together on the table top. "Hi there. What are you drinking?" She asked, friendly. Her voice was raspy, probably a cigarette smoker. "Vanilla Bean Frappachino. Yourself?"

She smiled. "Simple green tea. I'm Zenefriah. I saw you from across the room and I just can't help but wonder, what is on your mind, my troubled boy?" Bubba sighed, shaking his head. "Just school stress. I'm Bubba."

Zenefriah shook her head, taking his hands into hers. Her hands were wrinkled with age, just like the creases that outlined her features. "That's not all that is on your mind. There are many spirits around you." The woman gave Bubba a spiritual vibe. She wore many crystals and stones around her neck and wrists, along with tattoos in symbols the teenager would probably never understand. "I sense alot of..." She paused thoughtfully, running her thumbs over his pale-pink knuckles. "Unfortunate relationships in your life. I don't judge, care to enlighten me?"

There was an odd amount of comfort in the visit with this woman, she made Bubba feel understood. "Well." He took a breath. Maybe telling a stranger about his problems could help him heal and resolve them. "I had this boyfriend, you see?" He pulled out a polaroid of Marshall and himself, sliding it across the table to Zenefriah.

She ran her long fingernails along the photograph, quirking a perfectly sculpted brow. "Oh, Marshall, Marshall, Marshall. I'm sorry for your loss. Mr. Abadeer died much too early." She shook her head, making a clicking sound in the back of her throat. "Such a shameful crime. You must feel so.." The African woman paused, looking into Bubba's blue eyes. "Robbed. _So cheated._ I know I would." Her eyes were silver, adding to the list of other-worldly features she had.

Bubba nodded. "You know about what happened, then?" He took a shaky sip of his coffee, then returned his hands to hers. "Darling, _everyone and their mother's_ from here knows. Murder isn't usual in the Crest." Her eyes traced down to his chest. He was wearing a Cresthill Academy pull-over, the name scrawled out in black across it. "Oh, you're not from here. You're a..." He opened his mouth, but was silenced with a knowing grin. "Let me guess. You're a Plum's boy."

Bubba grinned back, nodding enthusiastically. "Knew it! Anyways, go on about Marshall for me?" Bubba sighed, blinking and keeping his eyes closed for a moment. "Do you believe in ghosts, Zenefriah?" He asked, his voice small.

She laughed, her voice wheezy like an alcoholic elderly's. "_Sweetheart, Sweetheart, You sure are from Plumsberry! I live, dream and breathe spirits._ It's what I do! I'm the Cresthill medium." She paused, moving his hands around on the table so they were both facing palm-up. "But what you're saying. Marshall Lee, is he still around here?" She placed her palms ontop of his, fingertips brushing against wrists. Bubba nodded, swallowing harshly. "Thing is, I didn't meet him before he was, y'know. As a child I always did believe in ghosts, the paranormal, all that. But I pictured faded-away shadows, the stereotypical."

Zenefriah smiled, shaking her head. "Not at all, but you know that now." She ran her long fingernails over the lines on Bubba's palms, then the old scars faded to his wrists without a word. "He was so real. He was there! I don't believe that he was...dead."

"Let me show you something, boy." The African woman lifted her palm gracefully, pointing to a back table discreetly. Bubba turned in his seat, looking at the man seated there. "Do you see Thomas there?" He was older with a full head of gray hair, blubbering to the newspaper in his grip. "Yeah, what about him?" "Thomas was a drunk. He fell asleep on the curb outside of here in 1996 and a truck ran the poor man over. Ghosts live among humans in peace here. People know, they're just ignorant towards the subject. Humans like to play make-believe." She made another clicking sound, talking under her breath. "Now, finding out, that's what pulled the two of you apart, yes?" She asked as Bubba's attention came back to her. "Yes. We got into a big fight. I couldn't understand."

"Of course you couldn't, dear, it's not exactly easy finding out your boyfriend's really a ghost. But I need you to take your time, then once you've wrapped yourself around it, go and find him. He's in an obvious place. But the longer he's away, the more harm done." Bubba nodded, keeping his eyes locked on the medium's. "The one that you are looking for, you're not going to find him here. Once things are sorted. Come back into town. You'll find me, don't doubt you will. I'll help Marshall and yourself. He's a confused boy."

She stood, and Bubba did as well, and they shared a long hug. It was a motherly embrace, one better than any the pink haired teen had experienced with his own mother. She kissed the top of his head, stroking his hair. "You better take good care of yourself until then."

Finally back home, Bubba squirmed out of his skinny jeans and pulled off his sweater, settling on his bed. The teen grabbed his backpack, unzipping it to find a box wrapped in lavender tissue paper. Confused, the boy pulled it out and unwrapped it slowly. Inside was a business card written in silver. "Zenefriah Abhaya. I do not have a contact number. You'll find me when you need to." There were also a few different gemstones, with names and meanings written on tags. Wonder filled Bubba's tear-filled eyes as he held the little treasures in his palm, shifting them around with his thumb. The woman he'd met today, what was she?

**AN: Go listen to "You're a Wolf" by Sea Wolf. It'll give you more of a Zenefriah feel. It's all I listened to while creating her and it's a lovely song ^^**

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Marshall Lee was full sprint, dodging trees and slamming into bushes. His jeans were in shreds at the knees, and he could hear the panting from his follower. The teen ran through the empty Cresthill hall, then slammed his vacant dorm room door shut. Laughter came from behind it, then it faded off and left him alone in the dark.

Catching his breath, the boy slumped against the corner where his bed was. He hugged his knees, and cried for hours. Marshall thought is was impossible, but there was pain all over his body. Everything throbbed and he couldn't sleep it off. Not this time.


	15. The Bathroom

**Big trigger warning for self injury in this chapter.**

* * *

Lightly padding down the left wing dorm's hallway, Marshall blinked back invisible tears and whimpered. It was 3 am on a Monday, everyone would obviously be asleep. He entered the bathroom, turning to stare himself down in one of the mirrors. When he was alive he used to do this, picking apart every feature on his face with his cruel red eyes. It usually ended in a crying episode, locking himself in his room to smoke a joint and have an eight hour nap. Right now, Marshall would be in hysterics if he could be. The raven haired teen glared at his scarred and bitten skin, the fresh welts under his torn up tee-shirt. They wouldn't heal, just collect until they owned the ghost's entire body.

Then came the little thought, a flashback to fourteen year old Marshall. He was sitting on the floor beside his dresser, walls behind him plastered in rock posters. The Abadeer sniffled back sobs, tear streamed face. Why didn't anybody care for him? He'd think to himself, then pick apart one of dad's shaving razors, using the blade to run reminders up and down his arms. He didn't think about it then, but the scars were faintly still visible now. Marshall remembered the pain, and how much better he felt an hour later, and he knew what he was going to do before even moving from in front of the mirror.

The pale, messy headed boy found a plastic razor in his room in the drawers, then returned to the bathrooms and sat on the floor. At this point, he didn't care if someone walked in and saw him. Resting his forearm on his knee, the teen made a small choking sound, his eyes welling up as he positioned the blade.

Bubba tossed and turned in bed, then sat up and rubbed his eyes. He couldn't sleep at all, might as well get up and shower or something. Grabbing his towel bag, he headed for the door. In one hand was his I-phone dock, he'd lightly play music whenever he showered. In the hallway, the pink haired boy could hear faint crying from across the corridor, near the boy's laboratory doors. He opened the door, finding Marshall with his back to the door on the floor by the counter.

The boy was crying, sobbing, choking without tears. There was a mixture of blood and water running to the drain, looking like red food color when dropped into ginger-ale. His back shook, fingers dug deep into the skin of the other arm. Bubba dropped his bags on the counter, making Marshall jump, then he hurried to his side and sat on the floor, reaching out to place his hand on the ghost's shoulder. Marshall jerked away, hiding closer to the corner. "Fuck off."

Bubba only turned him harder, forcing the other teen to face him. When he saw the damage done to his boyfriend's skin, his face fell and his eyes teared up. "Stay right there." He mumbled, standing to find one of his facecloths and run it under warm water. Then he returned to clean up Marshall's arm and wipe his teary, snotty face. He pulled a hairtowel out of his bag, wrapping it tightly around the pale, bleeding arm.

The alive boy pulled Marshall into his lap, sitting criss-crossed and rubbing the other teen's back. Marshall just submitted to his boyfriend, hiding his face in the tanned crook of his neck and sniffling, fingers gripped tight to his shirt. They sat like this for a good ten minutes, the quiet calming him down. "Better?" Bubba pulled back, looking into the dead boy's eyes. "You know, that doesn't solve much." Marshall nodded, refusing to make eye contact. "I know." He mumbled, as if he was being scolded.

Bubba rolled up his own sleeves, then pointed a pink fingernail at his wrist. "It's stupid. I've done it." There was a tiny, dark stitches scar along the inside of his left wrist, following a green vein underneath. Marshall reached out, shakily tracing the scar himself. "Don' do I' again." He half-whispered. Bubba shook his head. "I'm not the one you should be telling that to." He lifted the pale boy's chin. "Look at me." Marshall's shifty red eyes settled on his boyfriend's teary blue ones. "I'm sorry." Marshall reached up to hold both sides of Bubba's face, fingers stroking his cheeks.

"No more crying." Was all the ghost replied with, thumbs wiping his cheeks. "You look like that's all you've done this week." Bubba did that thing where you breathe out your mouth instead of laughing, moving in closer to kiss Marshall, hands grabbing desperately for the back of his neck as if he'd slip away if he didn't hold on. "I missed you so much." They both smiled, then Marshall pushed Bubba over to kiss him more.

In the morning, Marshall found himself on the bed he'd slept in until six days ago, the boy he'd slept with curled around him with an angelic smile on his face. The boy couldn't be bothered getting out of bed, wrapping his arms tightly around Bubba and kissing the top of his head. The pink haired boy stirred, then nuzzled closer to his chest and kissed his collarbone. "You're not leaving." Apparently, he'd felt Marshall moving, and thought he was getting up. "I mean, ever again."


	16. A Medium's Library

**I'm so so sorry for being gone so long, I've been having a really hard time emotionally, but I'm feeling better now! Thanks for all of your reviews and follows, you all make my days a lot better. **

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The morning came too early when light shone through the cracks of the blinds, disturbing Bubba as he cuddled close to Marshall's cold body. The other teenager was used to not sleeping, but had practiced relaxing with his eyes shut. He could almost feel sleep, but when it came, so did William Royce and Alice's bickering. His friend's voice worried him, he was only supposed to hear the voices of spirits... What happened to Alice June? Bubba leaned up to kiss Marshall's scruffy chin, squinting one eye open and smiling at him. He wrapped his arms around the pale boy's neck, clinging around him like a sloth. "Hi hands-" He paused, a big yawn escaping his lips. "-ome."

Marshall procrastinated leaving the warmth of their bed for as long as possible, stopping into Starbucks to grab coffee for his needy boyfriend. They showered and ate more cold cereal from the commonroom, yuck. At half-past eleven, Jake and Marshall had their usual cigarette break together and after that the couple left for the shopping district. Hands swinging together as they walked down the dirk roads of Cresthill, Bubba explained who they were going to see.

"I don't know where we're going to find her, I'm just certain we will." He had the gems she'd gifted him around his neck, tucked under his embroidered felt coat. The couple tucked into their favorite coffee shop, which was pretty vacant this holiday season. Around the corner, tucked into a booth, Zenefriah Abhaya stood with the ring of the doorbell. She looked over at Bubba, packing up her rucksack and coming to great the boy in her big arms. When she pulled away she looked at Marshall, lifted both of his arms and held his hands. There was a knowing look in her eyes, and a smile on her lips. "Marshall Lee." She just stated.

After seating the two in the back of the shop, Zenefriah across from them, she continued to play with their fingers and palms. "Now I'm certain you've not a clue who I am or why Bubba's made you come to see me." The African woman smiled, watching Marshall shake his head and lean on his free elbow. "Well darling, I'm Zenefriah." She looked over at Bubba and winked, smiling. "I'm a good friend. I'm here to help you understand things that have happened to you." Marshall's still heart sank, his gut turning. "You m-mean about m-" He stammered, but she raised her hand dismissively. "Yes, about that."

After a half an hour and mugfulls of cocoa at the cafe, Zenefriah brought the two back to her own little shop. The place was a palm-reading store with big neon lights and scents of cinnamon inside. There were gems and posters everywhere, purple hazy lights making the room feel misty and dark. She brought both boys to a backroom, behind a thick beaded curtain to a tall skinny room scattered with pillows on a sofa. There were bookshelves lining all three walls, and a small circle table in the middle of the room. A playlist of soft birds and waterfalls played from the speakers throughout her store.

The woman offered both boys a seat, placing three thick books on the table and whirling around the room to find things. "So, Marshall." She paused, perched up on a ladder at the top of one of the bookshelves. "I'm sure you've tried to go, well, home. And you know what happened?" He gulped, nodding and feeling Bubba's hand rest on his knee, re-assuring him. "I don't remember after I blacked out." She laughed, climbing back down.

"Darling, of course you don't! Spirits can't leave the range their death was in!" She said, as if he was supposed to know that already. The curly-haired woman took a seat across from them. "The only way that'd work is if you burn down the place of death." Zenefriah pulled a book across the table, opening it up and flipping pages with her nimble, ring covered fingers. "But that draws attention to you. I'm surprised you've been getting away with everything you've been doing, being a teenage tragedy down in the city. I'll have you know that there's a city wide curfew for highschoolers now." She smiled. "Keeps the kids out of trouble, at least."

"Why don't I heal?" Marshall finally asked after letting her ramble on, still nervous around the medium. She tilted her head, then gently reached out to touch his bite scar. "Well, these are permanent. You died in a state you'll stay in, un-affected, No-matter-what. But after death wounds will heal like normal ones do, should hurt as bad sometimes too." He tapped his fingers against his cheek, other hand gently stroking over Bubba's under the table. "And cry?"

"It just doesn't happen." She shrugged, without an explanation. "It baffles me too." Marshall was happy that this woman was going to clear some things up for him, even happier that his boyfriend worried enough to seek help for him. He nodded, absorbed by her words, paying his at-most attention to her. Zenefriah had a sparkle in her eye, one that just knew, as if she'd grown up with Marshall. At the end of the night she gave the boys money for a cab back to the dorms, a big hug each, and whispered to Marshall, handing him a few books in a bag. "You take care now, don't hurt yourself."

_'How did she know? Nobody ever knew.'_ Was all Marshall could think of, curled up in Bubba's arms and fuzzy blankets as the breathing teen snored away.


End file.
